Russian Roulette
by PostScriptAfterWriting
Summary: A little drabble of sorts. Not for anything in particular, just borrowing and experimenting with a character from another story of mine. Some gore.


**Russian Roulette**

Oh how silly you are.

Going along with everything I say, just tagging along. Playing my game. Do you really trust me so completely? Well...can't complain, I suppose. There aren't many people like you, you know. Ha, of course I'm not joking. For a genius, you can be quite dim at times. So oblivious. You absolutely love a good mystery, don't you? Is it the thrill that makes it worth it in the end? I don't understand you, not really anyways. But you amuse me. You are without a doubt the most interesting person I've ever played with. For all your brilliance, you never suspected me?

Strange.

The one person you have opened up to, the one you thought you could trust. Now look at her. A criminal mastermind. Funny little world.

Nobody can really figure out what goes on in that wonderful mind of yours. I still haven't. However, I do know you better than anyone else. I know exactly what you crave, what you desire, what you need. All that's required to keep you alive is a good case. Something that makes you think. Isn't it frustrating, how stupid the rest of the world seems sometimes? Yes, I know that feeling as well as you do. Such utter, eternal boredom. It's things like this that you enjoy, I know. I enjoy them too. Little thrills, rolls of the dice, unpredictability. What will I do next? Who will I kill?

I'm disappointed in you, love. I figured you would have solved it by now. How I take the lives of my victims. Must I guide you through such an elementary concept? Ah, well. It can't be helped.

Look here. You know exactly how the human mind works. All seven people that have died, have not actually died by my hand. They killed themselves. Suicide, in a way. All I did was whisper a few little words. I gave them a choice: play the game and take a chance, or die. Every one of them was an egotistical smart alack. Oh yes. That is the downfall of every man, my friend. Pride. It will raise you up above the clouds, carry you on wings of gold, make you feel absolutely _splendid_.

But then, it takes over. It's a ruthless master, don't you think? Give it the reigns and it will drive you over a cliff. Then you're falling, falling, falling. Spiraling ever down into the darkness of failure. The thing about pride is, it can't last forever. It will lead you to slip up somewhere on the road. If you get cocky, you're the one who suffers. That's how it works. The great weakness of every human soul.

Me? I'm a slave to pride, too. Why else would I be here, offering you the choice to play this game at the risk of both our lives?

"Not pride. _Arrogance._"

That hiss in your voice. Malevolence? My, my, this should be interesting. Oh how you must hate me now. Is it because you think I've already won? Heh. We'll see.

"Enough already! What's this game you keep referencing?"

Ah, the game... My favorite pastime. You can play it alone and you can play it with a whole group. Lovely, isn't it? You see this revolver? How beautiful it is.

Almost as beautiful as that look of revelation in your eyes now. You understand it yet?

"Russian...Roulette."

_Yes. _

Maybe you were right before. About this being a question of arrogance, not pride. I suppose we're both at fault, aren't we? You're still here, waiting, not even trying to think of an escape. I can tell when you're thinking, and right now, you're not. I'm arrogant enough to suggest this game, you are to accept it.

Come now, you know how to play. Let's do this. See, six chambers. Insert the round, spin the cylinder. It isn't hard.

"Technically, the game is rigged."

Yeah? Care to explain?

"While mathematically, it is a matter of chance, when you apply physics, it is not. The revolver is still subject to the laws of gravity, so the loaded chamber will end up on or near the bottom, ergo tipping the odds in the favor of the player. Hey, why are you grinning?"

You...you really are amusing! I guess you've done your studies, but consider this. Seven people died playing this game with me. What does that tell you?

"...The extra altering will only apply if the cylinder is allowed to come to a complete stop before it is re-latched."

Bingo. So, here we are: one revolver. One round loaded: I've already spun the cylinder.

"I think you've cheated."

Cheated, me? Whenever did you become so insulting, darling? There would be no fun in the game if I did. I have no ulterior motive, I'm just looking for a good thrill. No doubt like you.

Here. After me, you're going to put it to your head, just like this. Wonderful. Isn't this exciting? If you win, you live, you beat me, and you conquer arrogance. I swear, if this doesn't kill me or you, I'll sit here nice and quiet and let you phone the cops or whatever. I won't stop you! If it turns out that way, then I lose. Game over for me. Maybe I'll be the one to die. In that case, you truly win! You've killed the killer. But, if you're the one shot...well, I suppose there's room for an eighth notch in my belt, eh?

Don't be scared. Watch, I'll shoot first. Ready...now! Ah, what a nice little click. Looks like I got lucky, hm?

"There's no such thing as luck. There is probability and logic, but not luck."

Who's to be the judge of that, though? Never mind. Your turn.

Oh, hahaha! Brilliant! Your blood is everywhere now. What a mess. Oh well. It was a lovely game of Russian Roulette.


End file.
